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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24653479">The Soul Collector - The Night of Thanati</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghosthiro62/pseuds/Ghosthiro62'>Ghosthiro62</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Constantine (TV), Legion (TV), Lucifer (TV), Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Angels &amp; Demons, Capital Punishment, Death, Demon/Human Relationships, Fate &amp; Destiny, Free Will, Garden of Good and Evil, Heaven &amp; Hell, Justice, Mythology References, Old Gods, POV First Person, References to Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore, Reincarnation, Vengeance Demon(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:35:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,146</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24653479</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghosthiro62/pseuds/Ghosthiro62</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Constantine, an eternal Thanati, the Angel of Death, chosen by the gods to punish evil doers of the night</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Soul Collector - The Night of Thanati</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I am Constantine, an immortal Knight of Darkness, an eternal Thanati.  I follow the aroma of Death and carry out the mission given to me by the gods:  to seek those who sneak in the shadows and bring those unworthy souls to Hades. Such is my fate until the end of time.</p><p>I have lived a thousand lives in a fragile human shell, each time taking over the soul and the body  of an infant that was destined to die. Yet, miraculously the baby would survive growing into a man. As a child I was always very different - an alien to my new family and the local people. I saw things and phenomena that were inaccessible to others, felt what an ordinary person could not feel: ghostly energy flowing through fingers, spirits or some barely noticeable lights, which I began to call aura much later.</p><p>Each time I would be tormented by doubts and seeking the answer to the burning question - who am I?. Each time I would hear the answer - “you are the Thanati, the Angel of Death. Darkness itself prompted me to it for I was sent to the world by my true father - Thanatos, god of Death.</p><p>Despite everything, I loved the new parents and could not allow them to suffer because of me. Still, humans are afraid of things that are strange and unknown and so soon whispers were creeping in my town of Lagos about the strange boy Constantine, who saw what others did not see. I should have seemed ordinary ... but I was not ordinary.</p><p>And on the day I turned eighteen, I left my home - as it seemed to me then, forever. Before going to bed, I hugged my sister and parents tightly, and when everyone fell asleep, I simply went into the night, which took me into her arms. I wanted to find myself, to understand who I am, but in Lagos, among the people casting odd looks, seeing the “freak”, this seemed impossible.</p><p>For years I would wander around different cities, mastering the magic and growing stronger. The day came when I was ready and, then, night called me for the first time. Then, bending over a young girl who drowned in the river, I first saw other people's memories. And just then, following the trail of the girl who had left me in the Desert of Dreams, I found her killer. The time has come for the vengeance of the gods. This animal would not escape punishment that he deserved.<br/>I came to the killer, not knowing how this meeting would turn out for me. I was unarmed, but as it turned out, no weapons were required. They were my wings, woven from the night itself, which suddenly blossomed behind me. And when the monster in human guise, who drowned a young girl in the canal, with immeasurable horror asked who I was, the night answered for me, but in my own voice: "Death Angel."</p><p>And, as soon as I said this, I felt a certain ... sense of Destiny. As if all the pieces of the puzzle, over which I had been tormented all my childhood and youth, suddenly fell into place, formed a whole picture.</p><p>I finally found myself. My wings would spread and my body transformation would reflect my true self - a demon of death.<br/>My wings would envelope the cursed human and his soul would leave for the fires of Hades. This would continue every night, when I would cleanse the town of those  who crawl in the night.</p><p>For a long time I was alone, driven only by my own destiny. And then ... I returned home to my native Lagos. I don't know, I was probably tired of wandering. Tired of being alone.</p><p>I never needed money - my magic allowed me to create it directly from the air. Rather, transform the shadow into what I could only wish for. Everything that people sought for years, for which they betrayed themselves and fought for, sacrificed — some time, some freedom, some conscience — with ease, at the click of a finger, could become mine.</p><p>But I was not interested in either money or luxury. The only thing I really needed was love, because it is impossible to live in reality where you can see nothing but death.</p><p>And then I realized that while I was an eternal wanderer, there would be only one companion next to me, and its name was loneliness. So I returned to Lagos. I bought the house overlooking the lake. I called it the "Lavender Hall", again succumbing to the inner feeling; the feeling that the house seems to be calling me. There was something magical, special about it.</p><p>I assured my loved ones that there was no trace of the visions that tormented me as a child. That all those unusual phenomena that, as it seemed to me, I saw, just evaporated, stopped bothering me. I told them about the distant countries I visited, about the secret knowledge that was revealed to me. About wise mentors who opened my eyes to my errors. </p><p>Tonight I felt the call of the darkness again. The aroma of Death was in the air. I followed the scent to a prone body on the ground,<br/>Looking around and making sure that no one was watching me, I raised my hand. After a moment, a little flame danced in my palm, as if torn from someone else's candle - however, it was so. The fire did no harm to either my skin or the white leather glove, but it allowed me to take a good look at the girl lying on the ground.</p><p>Undoubtedly, during her life she was very beautiful - regular facial features, a neat upturned nose, freckles scattered on golden skin. But now the features of her sweet face were distorted by the seal of death - her eyes were wide, fear was forever fixed in them, on the neck - a cut. Like a stroke of a pen dipped in bright scarlet ink - a signature on the verdict of a stranger, where there was only one word: "Death."</p><p>I stood above her, pondering: what brought an attractive young lady, dressed in expensive silk, to this alley? Some mystery, providence, or chance? Was she alone or did her maid simply run away when her mistress was attacked? Alas, this has happened more than once. No matter how much you pay, your own life always seems more expensive.</p><p>But, of course, most of all I was worried about a completely different question: who killed her. I squatted, having thrown back the tails of the tailcoat, neatly put a silver cane with a knob in the form of a lion's head on the ground. Leaning over the stranger, looked into her eyes.</p><p>I felt the darkness engulfing me, swirling at the tips of my fingers, feeding to me a flurry of her emotions, which literally flooded my head. I saw what a stranger saw in a few minutes after her death.</p><p>I did not see her face, because I looked at the world with her eyes. I saw the already familiar lane, felt fear burning in every cell of her body and forcing her to run and run forward. Someone grabbed her from behind - I felt this touch with my own skin. He grabbed by the elbow and yanked at himself, turning around. I instinctively flinched as a female scream echoed in my - her - head. Her own scream. And then I saw the face of the attacker.</p><p>Dark red hair covered with a cap, scrawny mustache. An unpleasant, angry face of a predator, feeling an easy prey. In his hand - a knife - the one that a few minutes later will leave a long wound on the neck of a young lady. And from this wound, her soul will streak towards heavens.</p><p>“Your life or your gold” - he says in a raspy voice - “That is your choice”. And she chooses, hastily pulling off a satin glove from her thin hand and throwing it onto a paved tile. He pulls off the rings, and his fingers tremble, giving out fear flowing through his veins. </p><p>“And the locket,” he grins, exposing his teeth dark with tobacco.</p><p>And then she hesitates as her hand sweeps to her neck. Yet, she is in no hurry to remove the medallion so obviously dear to her.</p><p>- Come on, give me the medallion! - the robber nervously licked his lips.</p><p>Fragments of memories with the aroma of flowering almonds fell upon me: bitterness and sweetness in a single burst. Someone's face: courageous, beautiful, with a touch of audacity in his eyes. Pain and tenderness for someone who left too early, and reluctance to part with a thing that so much reminded him of it, which was more valuable than all the gold of the world.</p><p>You can’t be attached to things, you can’t be attached to people - I learned this for a long time, but constantly violated my own vow.</p><p>The robber rushed forward, the stranger tried to push him away - stupidly, but the desire to preserve the memory of the deceased loved one was stronger than fear, drowned out instincts. A short struggle with a predetermined finale. And - scarlet stroke on white skin. I could not see him, but I felt a blinding flash of pain, replaced by an all-consuming darkness.</p><p>I emerged from the abyss of other people's emotions and memories. He left the stranger lying where he found her. Later there will be policemen, onlookers or grieving relatives. Perhaps she would even linger here - if the Desert of Dreams let her go - to say goodbye. Perhaps she had already left without looking back. I had a different path.</p><p>I could walk with my eyes closed, focusing on the melting trail of someone else's energy - the trail of her killer. I don’t know why my gift workes like that, but I need to see the face of the one whose soul I was following. Without this, the alien energy just slipped out of my fingers.</p><p>It’s scary to imagine that if the stranger hadn’t turned around, if she had been hit in the back, then her murder would have remained unpunished. But this cannot be allowed. This parody of a human had a date with Hades, the lord of the underworld.</p><p>I did not remember the streets, almost did not see faces flashing before my eyes. Trying to hold on to the black energy wrapping around my fingers, I walked confidently forward. My ears heard nothing but the measured sound of a cane.</p><p>I knew that the killer could not go far - the night always called me exactly I knew that the killer could not go far - the night always called me exactly at the moment when the beat of someone's heart stopped forever. And I overtook him in one of the lanes. He walked hastily, with his hands in his pockets, where he hid the booty sprinkled with alien blood, with his bent back - if I hadn’t known the truth, I would have thought that guilty feelings were crushing him.</p><p>Hearing the steps behind him, he turned sharply. I could make my steps inaudible. I could merge with the shadow, because it was part of me.</p><p>I am both light and darkness, but what gives rise to their merging? Shadow.</p><p>But I wanted him to hear. So that the fear that a lovely stranger experienced, from the lips of which a warm sigh will never break again, the killer himself experienced.</p><p>He tried to run away, but made a mistake when he looked into my eyes. Fear paralyzed him, chained him in place. Walking close to the killer, I saw my own reflection in his pupils: a tall young man with dark hair just below his ears, dressed in a black tailcoat, white trousers and a shirt and a black top hat.</p><p>- Who are you? His voice hoarse with fright.</p><p>“Angel of Death,” I answered calmly.</p><p>The killer laughed nervously, but the silence whispering in the alley absorbed, drowned out the alien sound. The smile faded.</p><p>- There are no angels.</p><p>“Then who am I?”</p><p>And I spread my wings.</p><p>They were woven from the shadows, dark as ink. The killer was petrified with his eyes wide open. A sense of horror was mixed with disbelief. . I knew what he saw - a moment before the accomplished punishment, my eyes turned completely black, as if darkness living in my soul filled my eyes with ink.</p><p>And, then, the killer screamed, but his scream was cut off as I wrapped my wings around him. One last breath, disturbing the feathers on my wings. The last beat of the heart and the sound of a body falling to the ground. A body in which there was no longer a soul. Justice was served and the gods were satisfied.</p>
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